


mystery of love

by cottonclown



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Author Is Sleep Deprived, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone in Hell wishes they'd just get the fuck together already, F/M, Flashbacks, Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Human Reader btw, Reader is an Overlord, Reader is in Hell for a Reason, Really Short Chapters, Short Chapters, Slow To Update, Slow Updates, Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Soulmates, Tags to be added, They are from the same time and died, author uploads at 3 am, gentle overlord, it says "opposites attract" and "polar opposites" but thats me being dramatic, lots of expositional flashbacks, lots of fluff, probably, reader and alastor have a strict "no acknowledging we're soulmates" rule, they're not THAT different, yup soul mates exist in this world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:00:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23374324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottonclown/pseuds/cottonclown
Summary: Seule et solitaire.French for "Alone and lonely".They technically mean two different things, but that doesn't mean you can't experience both. However, for as long as they could remember, two of Hell's polar opposite Overlords have felt each in a different sense.One is much too frightening and vivacious to be surrounded and hold company, so he is alone.The other is demure enough to be allowed the presence of others, though it is all a sham, so she is lonely.But two halves make a whole and opposites attract....right?
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	1. what's a soulmmate?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A curse.

No one can predict when soulmates will meet. 

A person will meet their soulmate when the souls are ready to meet. The day that their first fateful encounter arrives is the day that life truly begins. A bundle of hardships come with this blessing and curse, allowing both parties to learn valuable lessons. 

They will learn patience. And.. acceptance. As well as how to unconditionally love.

That being said, soulmates are not something that everyone has the luxury of having. Very few are born with the markings of having a destined companion for life. It came in many different shapes and forms. 

In the case of a certain pair born during the early 1900s, both of the children brought into the world that day had no idea how troublesome their marks would be.

It could have been the common first words spoken/the date of meeting tattoed on their bodies or being unable to see color until seeing each other or having a unique matching symbol. In modern-day, such a thing as a timer or stopwatch exists. There was a huge variety.

But alas, these two ended up with not one, not two, but three different telltale signs. Out of the three, two were extremely well hidden and would take a long,  _ long  _ time before they would be discovered. The singular sign that was obvious, was a simple smudge of the darkest shade of black. 

For the gal, it rested on her left hand, inky and menacing. Her parents had worried a bit over this trivial fact because who in their right mind shakes with their left? For the boy, the entirety of his upper torso looked as if dipped in tar. No one knew what to make of it, and his mother only hoped it didn’t mean harm.

Both grew up with these marks, ignoring them with ease and concerning those around them more and more as they grew. Now, Louisiana had no City of Love or anything like that, but it was full of soulmates. Seeing these two youngsters growing without the slightest belief or interest caused them great unease.

Cynical little devils they were, the two children. Denying the existence of a partner to love for life despite everyone around them. And by their early 20s, everyone,  _ way  _ after themselves, had given up on their love. Never once, in all of their years from birth had they interacted. 

Even when the universe brought her to New Orleans, she came to sing not to search. There were dozens of posters at just about every corner with his charming face plastered across, and she  _ heard _ him every evening on the radio, but never once had it meant anything. The only things that this pair felt or noticed, were that their stomachs tickled very often and it was as if something would pull them took look or move a certain direction.

She vaguely remembered being invited to appear as a guest on his show. The call was thrilling, even if they spoke in business terms. It would’ve been wonderful for her career!

Then he died.

The year was 1933 and news was quick to spread. Of course it was! Everyone’s favorite radio host had just passed away. Now, she hadn’t been one to be affected by those things, but there was a painful pang in her gut. Plenty of excuses were made up for this: She was upset about an audience reach opportunity. She had prepared for speaking to this animated man she’s never met but never got to. 

She was uncomfortable for weeks. It was a relief when everyone started connecting the “Cannibal of the Bayou” to this host. Apparently, his killings stopped after that man’s death. This had soothed her, for she had convinced herself that  _ that _ was why she had felt so anxious.

And then she died.

She couldn’t remember the details of her death. Not very well, at least. Anytime she dared reminisce, it was a blur of reds and screaming and darkness and flashes of light. 

In short, a mess.

Try as she would, there was never a clear image of that important, life-ending moment. She could remember the rest, oddly enough. It was like a film that ran smoothly, save for the bit of grain, up until she was about to die. It’d burn up in her mind, the black and white spots shielding her from the sliver of closure she might have received.

It was fine, however, because, at the end of the day, it wouldn’t change where she was now.

Let us talk about “now” since we’re on the topic. Now takes place in a quiet, beautiful yet grotesque beach. The sand is a champagne type of silver, quite rough but also slippery. An uncomfortable texture. The water (which was a distasteful shade of crimson) thrashed about, crashing onto the shores and spears of rocks. She appreciates its peculiar beauty  _ now _ , but it was a horrid place to land  _ then _ .

And  _ that _ she remembered clearly.

Apparently, the person in charge of throwing her “downstairs” wasn’t feeling particularly gracious the day she fell, because she was dropped into the bubbling (literal) red sea. It wasn’t boiling, much to her surprise and relief, but it was strong. It pulled her this way and that, throwing her around like a ragdoll. 

It wasn’t very fun to fall into a body of water first thing upon opening her eyes. There was panic and confusion and shortness of breath. It was obviously overwhelming, but as the stress built up, so did something within.

She had shrieked like a banshee that day, once she was finally able to stay above the waves. It only took that scream for her body to combust into the entire spectrum of blue. The water had stilled, the new world had stilled, and she had stilled.

_ ( For the demons of Hell, that day was comically dubbed “Hell’s First Earthquake” and oh how they would soon learn that it was not a joking matter. Not for them, not for her, not for anyone. ) _

The shock had lasted a minute or two before she began to reassociate. 

The flames had stayed alight, licking her skin even in the water. Although, perhaps flames wouldn’t be the right word to call them. They resembled tentacles, in away. Smooth, but transparent as if the ghost of a Kraken. She had reached out to touch them, since there seem to be no need to stay afloat, the water had calmed, and she just..stayed up. But the… whatever they were whisped away upon contact. 

With weary eyes, she had brought her hands to her face, not sure what to expect at this point. They were as small and frail-looking as they had been in life, but they were tinted a greyish-blue. Perhaps like the sand one would imagine on the ocean floor. Her expression then went from wonder to confused to incredulous and finally, sour. The smudge had remained. It had followed her.

And that was enough to make her certain that she had ended up in Hell.


	2. prolonging the inevitable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit 7/10/20: this book will be rewritten and have a more solid storyline.  
> sorry for the inconvenience and mess.
> 
> -  
> yo what's up everyone! so sorry i have been lacking updates on.. let's see here..  
> ALL MY WORKS.
> 
> jeez, i'm really sorry, but here i am.  
> this chapter is just a bit of build up and essentially useless since (spoiler alert)  
> they dont meet in this chapter i'm so sorry hahaha 
> 
> you basically don't have to read this chapter but if you do? thank you!  
> will try to get some alastor action in here soon-
> 
> oH AND P.S  
> there's minor gore..?
> 
> enjoy!

Running.

It was a small, wounded demon that was running. 

Of course, he was running! Despite having already visited this circle of Hell and blown off more than enough steam, the crackling of an old mic was a dead giveaway of what was to come. 

The streets had been paved in crimsons. Chunks, stuff on the inside, everything gross and gory was littering the roads. All the gunk was made up of the remains of those who had returned because  _ of course,  _ it wouldn’t happen in the same place twice. That’s just boring! But oh how their luck just wasn’t having it. Oh, how  _ wrong  _ they were, because guess what? Guess who decided to host their monthly massacre for the  _ second time this month? _

Why, it was none other than the  _ sweet  _ and  _ considerate  _ and  _ AMAZING  _ Radio Demon!

No warning, no schedule, not even the smallest idea or reason of  _ why _ he was doing it again, in the same place, but there he was. Unreadable as always. 

_ “Who doesn’t love a good surprise?” _

That’s what  _ he _ had said before a tendril pierced the small demon square in the chest. Now, the poor thing was doing his best to get away. His heart was basically in his hands, blood continuing to gush from the generous size of hole in his bosom and his cries came out wet from the liquids pooling in his throat.

There were plenty more demons behind him to slaughter and he was a drab little nobody, so obviously The Great Radio Demon wasn’t going to go out of his way to finish him off. Right?

He was unsure but his legs never stopped, he made it to the edge of the small area, looking towards the bay nearby. He would hide in the beach, surely  _ he _ wouldn’t come all the way to the beach. Slowly, he walked along the cliff but failed to watch his step and tumbled down. 

Calling it “painful” would not do his current feelings justice. His heart basically popped out of it’s cage and was now most definitely pierced. He bit on his fist, not wanting to attract any attention from anyone at all. He would heal eventually if left alone.

Standing on frightened legs, the demon continued to walk along the cement colored sands. Find a rock or… bundle of rocks to take shelter in. Sit under or beside it to keep out of view for a bit. 

Lost in anxious thoughts about simply surviving the whole ordeal, he didn’t notice the dense flurry of fog that had begun to close in. He didn’t seem to notice the gentle footsteps that approached either or how the waves had seemed to stop their crashing. No, he was so scared for his life that there was no reaction to the world going completely silent around him. Subconsciously he was grateful for such peace.

Then he heard it.

The twinkle of a music box, so sad that it made even the most apathetic feel a pang in their chest. It was distant, but it was slowly getting closer. It played a tune unfamiliar to him, but despite how intrigued he may be now, there was no way he’d risk anything in the shape he was.

Hurriedly he ran away, the fog was terribly dense so he had no idea which direction he was heading. Away from the creepy music was all he knew! He moved this way and that, anything that made the noise mute.

But despite all that, he paused the moment the song became loud once more. Did he go in a circle? He ran the opposite direction, not turning at all so this way he surely wouldn’t confuse his course.

**_“..in love with someone who doesn't love me..”_ **

There was a voice now. Just his luck. Was the person in the water or something? The voice sounded faded. Stumbling as he took a step back, he couldn’t hold back the pained groan as his hands were driven into his wound. 

**_“..n' that's why I'm bluer than blue..”_ **

He saw nothing! No shadows, no silhouette, and no color. Maybe this was a hallucination before his body shuts down? He continued looking around, searching for even the slightest glimpse of company.

**_“..wasting my time.”_ **

The demon was heaving breaths. It was hard to breathe. The fog had something in it? No, it was the voice. The voice was going to make his head explode.

**_“Wasting my love on you.”_ **

He had to get away-

**“Just you.”**

The final sentence was not sung but spoken as someone put a hand on his shoulder. The demon screamed, though it became a gurgle and cough of blood halfway through. He fell to the floor, organ falling into his lap only fueling his panic.

The someone who had grabbed him blinked, her [e/c] eyes wide at him as if he was the one who had surprised her! He scrambled back, recognizing her all too well now.

First, the Radio Demon pays his “home” another visit, and NOW he had the  _ honor _ of meeting another big shot.    
  


Fog followed her with every step, giving her a ghastly charm. She was made up of blues, pretty, deep ocean blues that looked lovely against her [h/c] hair and faded skin tone. Everything that had length flowed in the fog calmly, giving the illusion that she was underwater. Such strange attributes for what appeared to be a doe demon.

  
Though folks called her Banshee, Sea Witch, or other names, he definitely saw why the most common was  _ The Siren. _

After all, perhaps her singing from earlier might’ve made it so that he wouldn’t have his head right now.

_  
_ It was well known that when she had first manifested, simply speaking to her left demons headless. Simply a few syllables made them burst. It was thought to be an exaggeration at first until those who simply went to  _ hear  _ her would have their heads pop into red goo.

She had said it wasn’t on purpose and she apparently apologized to her victims (who most likely couldn’t hear her anymore). This left her to be avoided.

Why did it come to this?

He held his heart in his hands, frozen in fear as she put her hands behind her back, swaying in her modest dress.

“Why is your heart not inside you?”

“...”

“Where are my manners?” She told him her name. [Y/n]. “Did I scare you?”

“....”

“Why did you come to my beach?”

“.....”

Even if he  _ wanted _ to respond, his voice was no longer in speaking shape, blood spilling out of his mouth whenever he so much as moved.

She sighed, a tuft on her head seeming to flick slightly with great impatience. Ears?

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t take you back from wherever you escaped.” 

“..n..oh..n..no!” The desperation to say something made him make a sound. He pointed repeatedly at the direction of the area, the small glow of flames and chaos in the distance. She followed his hand, not evening batting an eye at what she saw. 

“Oh, I see.. I also see you can’t talk.” There was a hint of disappointment in the [Y/n]’s voice. “Well, if I fix you then you can talk. With me at least. Stay still-”

A claw ripped through the already injured demon before her, his blood splattering onto the wonderful dress she was wearing. She went rigid, brows furrowing as if this was the most troubling thing she will ever experience in her life. [Y/n] touched the skirt part gingerly, letting out yet another sigh. 

She looked to see who the claw belonged to so she could give them a piece of her mind and was met with the empty red eyes of a mischievous shadow. Two spiky tufts that were a bit bigger and messier than hers were outlined on what she assumed was the top of it’s head. It held the impaled demon proudly on its hand, looking over at her as if deciding if she was next or not.

“Hello there, mista.” [Y/n] felt her ghost creep up behind her, similar to this shadow creature but yet completely different. She held it’s hand reassuringly. “I was planning on talking with that boy. It was awful rude to off him without asking, you know?”

It tilted its head with a sardonic grin, bouncing the sobbing little demon on it’s claws. The discomforting sounds of flesh and intestines made [Y/n] shake her head, but laughed lightly at the shadow for it reminded her of her ghost. It seemed to like her laugh, for it did the movement even more. The funny expression of pride it had made her laugh again, finding it endearing.

“Having fun?”

The shadow’s eyes became crescents, meaning a larger smile. Before it could do more, it’s throat crackled before what sounded like a broadcast rang from it’s never-moving gash of a mouth.

_ “Thank you for joining us on this impromptu segment! We had quite a few familiar faces today and a few new ones. But unfortunately, we’ve hit time! This is your host, The Radio Demon signing off, but remember folks: _

**_Stay tuned._ ** _ ” _

That seemed to mean the work was done, seeing as the inky creature dragged the crying demon back to wherever they had come from. [Y/n] blinked for a moment, processing the voice. She had heard it before? Yes, it’s been a few years since she arrived down here and The Radio Demon isn’t exactly new, but the grainy filter of the radio…

“Forget it.” She mumbled as she dusted her skirt, deciding to head home and change. Well, if they ever meet, the man owes her a new dress. That much she knew.

And off she went again. Singing a song she couldn’t understand yet oddly feel.

**_“I'm just like a love boat that's sailing the sea.”_ **

[Y/n] and her voice slowly disappeared and she walked along the shore. Perhaps she would listen to the radio at home, today. Dance along to the phonograph. Watch a video on the picture show.    
  
**_“..thout any captain or crew...”_ **

As she quite literally vanished into thin air, the same sinister umbra crept back to where it had seen the pretty lady. Alastor didn’t care much for whenever it did this, so here he was. The shadow flitted within the dark patches of the beach, quite let down when it saw that she was nowhere to be found.

Oh well.

If it ever saw her again, it’d make sure to make her laugh again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ghhhhhh.. thank you for reading til the end (T T)  
> this was written in one sitting, incredibly short and not proofread so i apologize for making you guys read it gahfdfghfkahs  
> constructive criticism and advice is always welcome!!
> 
> じゃあね~!


End file.
